Page 63 of Cursed Lifeline

Esme

Song: Let’s Face the Music | Vince Giordano & The nighthawks

New Orleans, Louisiana

Strong hands grip my neck.My throat tightens, and my lungs burn as I struggle to breathe. In the darkness, I can make out the image of a cross above me as I'm held down against a concrete slab.

Laughter fills the cold room. I strain as I attempt to turn my head and look around me to find where it is coming from, but I’m held in place by a force that’s not of this world.

Hot breath feathers against my ear as my captor leans in closer.

“Mouthwatering,” he whispers, and my heart rate spikes.

“Exquisite,” he salivates as his mouth falls to my neck.

I struggle against the power that’s holding me still. The one that seems relentless in offering me up as a sacrifice against my will.

“Delicious,” the voice purrs as he licks my neck.

His grip loosens slightly. I let out a scream and turn my head just in time to see his canines glisten in the moonlight. Paralyzed, I stare up at him in fear as his black eyes widen, and he quickly leans into me, intent on sinking his teeth into my neck and vigorously sucking the life from my body until…

“Do you plan to only watch, or do you enjoy playing the game too, mon cheri?” a commanding voice says a few steps away.

My body calms at the sound of the other man’s voice.

I’ve heard it before. I’m sure of it.

And as the ghostly haunting of a previous life drifts back to me on a predestined breeze, I’m drugged by the sound of it and instantly consumed by the way its velvet, smooth, sinful tone rushes over my skin and warms my heart.

A warning goes off in my mind.

A premonition.

My mind screams not to fall for the voice’s charm.

But my heart whispers my choice has already been made, and fighting the inevitable will only make matters worse.

My eyes catch the black gaze of the man towering over me before he raises his head and stares off toward the sound of the other man’s voice. His mouth foams with hunger as it hangs open, and he focuses angrily on whoever stands in the darkness a few steps away.

“Release her,” the man growls.

Immediately, the power that’s been holding me in place, intent on stealing my life, is removed. I suck in a breath as I scurry off the sacrificial altar. Taking several hurried steps down from the pulpit, I keep my eyes on the man behind me as best I can in the darkness that surrounds us, but all I can make out is the angular curves of his face as he stares blankly straight ahead.

My feet stumble as they hit the ground beneath the dais. Protective arms pull me into a comforting embrace, but I’m smart enough not to trust them. Not at first, at least. Instead, I fight against them, only to be restrained against a firm chest a moment later as the stranger places his mouth to my ear and whispers,“Pray you love, remember.”

Pulling back, I quickly turn around, wanting to gaze upon the man who strangely feels like the other half of my soul. But the stranger’s face is hidden by dark shadows. Through the iridescent glow of the moon, I make out violet eyes. They hold mine tenderly with a sort of nervous energy that matches the tremble in his strong hands as he desperately pulls me a tiny step closer.

“You’ll damn the whole coven for the choices you're making,” the man behind me yells.

“We’re damned anyway,” the man staring deep into my soul seethes. His gaze lifts and latches onto the evil lurking over my shoulder.

“Life,” the man with violet eyes breathes out harshly, “is just a series of twisted games played one after the other. The question is, do you know your opponents well enough to win or lose at the hand of those you trusted most when you shouldn’t?”

Before I can decipher what the stranger means, he spins me around and pins my back tightly to his chest. His left arm anchors me in place as he fiercely grips my waist. His right hand raises a spiked wooden staff and he aims it at the dark figure across the room. Though I can’t see much, I notice the evil man’s black eyes widen as the stranger behind me forces us a step forward.

He releases his grip around my center, and a shiver rushes down my spine as his fingertips trail possessively across my hip. With his free hand, he picks up my right palm and wraps it tightly around the weapon. Forcing me a step forward, I bravely meet his strides as we approach the altar. Oddly, I feel no fear, worry, or panic as he ushers me closer to a fate I’m coming to understand I was born to meet.

My hand tightens around the weapon as if it has always been a part of my body. As if I’ve trained with it before. In a past life perhaps.

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